The Son of Tushin and the Tsarevich

Once upon a time, there lived—or perhaps didn’t—a certain king. He had an only son, whom he adored more than anything in the world.

"There’s hardly another boy like him in the world!" the king once said to his viziers.

"The world is vast; surely there must be!" replied the chief vizier. The king grew angry:

"Then try to find one! If you succeed, you’ll receive your weight in gold. If not, you’ll lose your head."

The vizier asked for three months' time and set off to find a boy who looked exactly like the prince. He searched far and wide across three regions of the kingdom. Three months passed. He returned to the king and said:

"Your Majesty, I’ve searched three regions of your realm. Only one remains. Grant me another month. If I don’t bring back a boy who resembles the prince, you may cut off my head."

The king granted the vizier another month.

The chief vizier searched the fourth region of the kingdom. He reached the mountains where the Tushin shepherds grazed their sheep. Boys were running along the slopes. One of them looked exactly like the prince. The vizier saw him and took him, along with his father, to the palace. There, he dressed the shepherd’s son in the prince’s clothes and led both boys to the king’s chambers.

The king embraced one boy, then the other—he couldn’t tell his own son from the stranger.

"Praise be to you, my vizier! You’ve proven your point. Take the promised gold!"

"No, Your Majesty," said the vizier. "First, reward the shepherd for bringing his son here. Then you may settle with me."

The king gifted the Tushin man gold and silver and asked him to leave his son at the palace until he grew up. The Tushin agreed.

The boys studied and played together. They grew into handsome young men.

The king rejoiced, but the queen grew darker than a storm cloud. The king asked her why she was displeased and who had angered her.

"Why should I be pleased?" replied the queen. "All men are mortal, and we too shall die. How will they tell the prince from the shepherd’s son after we’re gone? What if the shepherd’s son inherits the kingdom?"

"Don’t worry," said the king. "Weave an extra thread into our son’s clothing, and everyone will recognize the prince."

And so they did. The queen brightened, but the shepherd’s son grew sad.

"Don’t grieve," said the prince. "Wear my clothes. I don’t need the extra thread."

"Nor do I. What hurts is that they won’t dress us alike, as brothers."

For two days, the young man was sad. On the third day, he said to the prince:

"Ask the king to give us horses. Let’s go for a ride tomorrow."

The next day, the young men set off on horseback. They rode far from the city, and there the shepherd’s son embraced the prince, bid him farewell, and spurred his horse into a gallop. The prince followed.

"Don’t follow me. You’re the prince, and I’m a shepherd’s son!"

"Where you go, I go! I’ll never part from you." And the prince rode alongside his sworn brother.

They rode for a long time and found themselves in an unknown land. They didn’t know where to go next. They decided: wherever the arrow flies, they would follow.

The shepherd’s son drew his bow and shot an arrow. It flew over seven mountains. The riders followed it, guided by the signs—branches torn from trees, mountain peaks struck by the arrow.

They crossed the seventh mountain and saw a vineyard on the slope. Beneath a quince tree, their arrow stuck out of the ground. They dismounted and let their horses graze beyond the vineyard. They picked some grapes, ate, and lay down to sleep under the quince tree.

They woke in the morning and saw: there was no way out. A terrible Gvelveshapi had coiled around the vineyard, its tail looped over its head, holding them in its jaws.

"We’ll fight it," said the shepherd’s son.

"Don’t rely too much on your strength," said the Gvelveshapi in a human voice. "No iron sword can strike me down, no arrow can pierce my hide. With one swing of my tail, nothing will remain of you. But I mean you no harm. I’ll let you go on one condition—bring me a girl not born of man."

"Agreed! Let us go!"

"I don’t trust words. One of you will stay here; the other will go fetch the girl."

"Where can we find such a girl?" asked the shepherd’s son.

"Go toward the sunset. Perhaps you’ll find her there."

The prince stayed with the Gvelveshapi, and the shepherd’s son set off.

He followed the setting sun. By evening, he reached the edge of a forest. At the edge stood a house, and in the yard, an old woman was carding wool.

"Greetings, mother," said the young man. "I’m parched. Give me some water, for the sake of your children."

The old woman turned:

"Greetings, my son! Had you not called me mother, my sons would have had you for dinner! What brings you here? Even birds dare not fly over the lands of the devs."

"I’m in such trouble that even a dev doesn’t scare me! I seek a girl not born of man. Do you know, mother, how to find her?"

The old woman promised to help. She gave him food and drink and said, "Hide in the toné. My sons will return from the hunt soon. If they see you, they’ll eat you alive!"

*Toné* is a traditional Georgian storage room or cellar.
A large bread-baking oven, half-buried in the ground.

The devs—the sons of the old woman—returned from the hunt. They brought back a deer, skinned it, roasted it, ate, and then lay down to sleep.

In the morning, when the devs went off to hunt again, the old woman gave her son Tushina a sharp knife and said:

"Go cut down a tree in the forest and bring it here."

The young man cut down a tall tree, dragged it back with great effort, but the old woman snapped the trunk over her knee!

"This won't do; we need something stronger. Get on your horse and follow me." The old woman went into the forest, cut down a giant tree, and carried it herself. She walked so fast that the horse could barely keep up. They emerged from the forest to the seashore.

"Here's a knife and a whetstone," the old woman said to the young man. "Sharpen the knife so it can cut through the trunk in one stroke."

The son of Tushina sharpened the knife. The old woman whispered a magical word and threw the tree into the sea. The water receded from the shore, revealing a reed.

"Run and cut it at the root, then bring it here!" said the old woman. "Don't delay, or the waves will swallow you."

The young man ran, cut the reed, and hurried back! The waves chased him, nearly catching up. He ran faster and managed to reach the shore.

The old woman whispered over the reed, and suddenly it split open, revealing a girl so beautiful it was hard to look away! The young man placed the reed-girl on his horse and set off on the return journey. They rode and rode but lost their way. They stumbled upon a garden with strange fruits.

The travelers dismounted, plucked a juicy fruit each. But before they could take a bite, an unknown force pulled and dragged them! The garden's owner, a cruel one-eyed dev, had sensed their human scent and drawn them to him. The dev seized the newcomers and dragged them to his house. He shoved the young man into a large room and chained him to the wall alongside many other captives, while the reed-girl was locked in a tower. Then the dev lit a fire, ate one of the captives, and fell asleep.

The dev slept, snoring loudly.

"How long does he sleep?" asked the son of Tushina.

"After eating a person, he sleeps for three days."

"And you're waiting for him to kill all of you? Let's pull together and break these chains, then kill the dev."

The captives strained, pulled the chains together, and broke them!

The people fled, far from the terrible place. But the son of Tushina took a spit, stabbed the dev in his single eye—let him not catch and kill people! The dev howled, jumped up, and spun around. The young man locked the dev up and ran to the tower for the reed-girl. He was about to lead her out when he heard a voice calling for help. The young man opened a small door in the wall, and behind it was a hunchbacked old man with a three-yard-long beard, chained up.

"Hey, human, bring me a bowl of food and a jug of water!" begged the hunchback.

The young man took pity on the old man, brought him the bowl and jug. The hunchback ate and drank. But the water in the jug was not ordinary—each sip tripled his strength. The hunchback broke his chains, punched the young man, who flew back like a pumpkin. The old man grabbed the girl and disappeared.

The son of Tushina got to his feet and looked around: no hunchback, no reed-girl.

He wandered aimlessly. He walked for a long time through mountains and gorges. His clothes were torn, his shoes worn out. He lay down to rest under a tall, shaggy spruce. He lay there, looking at the sky, when suddenly he saw: a veshapli was flying toward the spruce. On the spruce was a huge nest with two chicks of the magical bird Paskunj. The chicks chirped in fear. The young man grabbed his bow, shot an arrow, and killed the winged monster.

The chicks quieted down. The young man lay back on the ground and fell into a deep sleep. The Paskunj bird flew in, bringing food for its chicks. It saw the veshapli sprawled on the ground and the sleeping man nearby. The clever bird guessed who had killed its enemy. It fed its chicks, then spread its mighty wings over the young man, shading him from the scorching sun.

The son of Tushina woke up, opened his eyes, and saw something black looming above him, blocking the sky. He was frightened and closed his eyes again.

"Don't be afraid of me, son of man," said Paskunj. "Thank you for saving my chicks. I raise them only once every seven years, and the veshapli always eats them! How did you end up in this remote place? Do you need my help?"

The young man told the bird of his misfortunes.

"You fly all over the world, have you seen a hunchbacked old man with a three-yard-long beard?" asked the young man.

"The hunchback hides in an underground forest," replied Paskunj. "I cannot go there. I will take you to a tree at the entrance to that forest. There, in the evening, a foal emerges from the ground and grazes under the tree. You will hide in the tree and jump onto the foal's back. It will take you to the underground forest. Climb onto me and close your eyes."

The bird soared into the clouds and in an instant reached a large, spreading tree in a field.

The young man climbed the tree and waited. As soon as the sun set, a white stone under the tree split open, the earth erupted, and a white foal leaped out. The young man jumped onto its back. The foal darted through the split stone back into the earth and found itself in a dense forest. The young man looked around and saw: on a tree by a sheer cliff hung the reed-girl. The poor thing was barely alive, her hair tangled in the branches where the hunchback had hung her.

The young man took her down but didn't know what to do next or how to get back to the surface.

"Save me, son of man!" suddenly said the foal. "The old man won't let me eat. I graze near the tree, but there's no grass left. The old man hid my bridle under a big stone; I can't escape without it. Get the bridle, and I'll take you back to the surface."

The young man lifted the stone, and the earth rumbled. Under the stone was the bridle and a vial of green water. The young man grabbed the bridle and lowered the stone. The vial broke, and the green water spilled in all directions. The earth shook, the cliff trembled and split open, and the lifeless hunchback fell out. The vial had contained his evil soul.

The young man put the bridle on the foal, and it immediately turned into a mighty rashi. It carried the young man and the girl to the surface and in an instant brought them to a vineyard where a prince was waiting for his sworn brother.

The son of Tushina embraced the prince, then said to Gvelveshapli:

"I fulfilled your task, brought the reed-girl, not born of man. But why do you need her? Let her come with us; she'll be like a sister to us."

Gvelveshapli said nothing, began to shrink, shrink, and suddenly shed its skin.

Before the astonished young men stood a girl of unparalleled beauty!

"Thank you, young man, you've given me back my life," she said. "The evil Juda—the hunchbacked old man with the three-yard-long beard—abducted me. I would have perished, like many others in his underground forest, but the one-eyed dev caught him. Then the old man cursed me: 'You will be Gvelveshapli until you witness a miracle.' And isn't a girl not born of man a miracle?"

The son of Tushina kissed the rashi on both eyes and set it free, then invited the girl to join them. He led his friends to the shepherds in the mountains of his native Tusheti.

Tushin—a native of Tusheti, a mountainous region of Georgia.

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The Son of Tushin and the Tsarevich

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